


You Give Love a Bad Name

by DasMervin, MrsHyde (DasMervin)



Series: The Writing on the Wall [23]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Apologies, Barebacking, Bathing/Washing, Bitchy Castiel, Bitchy Dean, Blow Jobs, Bobby is an awesome dad, Bobby puts up with so much crap, Cas is a dork, Come Eating, Come Shot, Communication, Cuddling, Dating, Dean is a dick, Dean is a sap, Dean is an asshole, Destiel - Freeform, Domestic Castiel, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Facials, Fingering, Fondling, Groping, Grumpy Dean, Guilty Castiel, Guilty Dean, Hand Jobs, Headcanon, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Human Castiel, I Love You, Internalized Homophobia, Jealous Castiel, Jealous Dean, Jealousy, Kissing, Love, Lube, M/M, Making Love, Making Out, Missionary Position, Misunderstandings, Naked Castiel, Oral Sex, Rimming, Shower Sex, Slash, Slow Sex, Spooning, Sweet Dean, so is dean, talking it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-16 20:06:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1360093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DasMervin/pseuds/DasMervin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DasMervin/pseuds/MrsHyde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jealousy takes many forms—and neither Cas nor Dean is immune.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lovin' Touchin' Squeezin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas doesn’t take too kindly to a farewell gesture given to Dean by a grateful woman—much to Dean’s amusement and glee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we post the conclusion to “No One Like You”, we decided that we wanted to put up this bit of sweetness first. The second part of the former fic takes place later on down the line, while this one is the next hunt directly after it. We wanted to show that things are, in fact, getting back to normal, and Dean is pushing past his issues and wants to make it up to Cas. It’s not gonna be instant and fully acknowledged like it was in “Love Bites”, seeing as he knew exactly what he did wrong and why he did it there; in “No One Like You”, he still has no idea he has those issues and problems so it’s kind of hard for him to truly grasp the weight of what went on there, so the resolution will be much more drawn out and will take a lot of time for him. However, he does know it wasn’t right by the time this hunt gets on the move, and does actually start taking a few little baby steps towards trusting Cas in that particular area.
> 
> That, combined with Cas’s little moment you’ll see in just a second, really get Dean back on his even keel with Cas again. Enjoy!
> 
> Mervin

_July 2027_

You know, if it’d been a hunt with Sam, Carrie’s little thank-you for getting rid of the poltergeist in her house would’ve been perfectly fine—better than fine, really, ‘cause Sam always needed to be reminded who was boss. It wouldn’t have caused any fuss at all.

Dean’d wanted it to be a regular, no-problems hunt. He hadn’t been on a job with Cas since May, and that one had…well, he didn’t want to think about that one. It’d taken a couple of weeks for him to come down off it, but it’d finally set in how Not Cas’s Fault all that was, and that he’d been a dick again. He’d spent the past couple of months trying his best to get things back to normal with Cas, and to really kind of…make up for that. So he’d been looking for this kind of opportunity. Some hunt that was up Cas’s aisle, and so wouldn’t take very long for them to wrap up, and then Dean could spend the rest of their time off makin’ nice with him. Unfortunately, Sam had been Cained—had been personally getting hit harder and harder with the itch ever since he and Amy had gotten really serious—and Dean had dutifully stuck with him as he wandered, just like Sam had always done for him. But things had finally worked out—Sam finally could rest, a case came up that looked like maybe a ghost, so Dean’d taken Cas so he could quietly put that last hunt behind them after they’d investigated a rather questionable house.

The house had a bad history—bad history, in that the owners kept dying. By the time they’d arrived in town, Carrie had moved in. She was from out of state, just desperate for a cheap house, and apparently hadn’t done too much research into it other than price before moving in. Well, that was hardly worthy of a death sentence, so he and Cas had swept in with all speed and dispatched the thing. Only problem was, during said dispatch, the resident spirit had decided to go after Carrie with some kitchen knives; Dean had reacted on instinct, rushing to protect her while barking orders out to Cas to get all the purifying herbs in place and give the final incantation already before this thing killed them all. Cas had pulled out a little Enochian to delay the spirit long enough to do just that, and so that’s how Dean wound up pressed tight against the wall with a hot chick in his arms, shielding her from the blast as the poltergeist went out with a bang.

Even so, it really wasn’t an exciting case—poltergeists _loved_ using kitchen implements to trash people. He’d seen it before and he was sure that he’d see it again. It was a pretty straightforward hunt with a little dust-up at the end, but other than that, wasn’t anything much. But he supposed to someone who wasn’t in the know it was pretty damned scary. Carrie had been shaken, of course, and he and Cas had stayed for a few minutes afterwards, even going so far to make her some hot tea at her request (or rather, Cas had made it while Dean had sat with her and held her hands and reassured her that things would be okay). She’d hugged Cas briefly when they said their goodbyes, telling him thank you, and that had been awkward because he’d been all stupid and stiff, just sort of patting her back. Why Cas had trouble hugging Anyone Who Wasn’t Dean was beyond him. But then she’d turned to Dean and he’d grinned at her, ready for his hug too—

And he’d been very surprised when instead, she just stepped forward and planted one right on him.

Her slim fingers had been gentle on the back of his neck, lightly brushing through the short hair there, and her lips had been full and soft, and when she’d finally pulled away, he could still smell the coconut in her shampoo and taste the cherry lip gloss she used. She’d smiled up at him, her brown eyes shining, and then she’d shyly said thank you.

Dean had blinked, a slow smile spreading across his face, because hell yes, man of the hour strikes again, all hail the conquering hero, baby—

Oh, _shit_.

Cas was glancing rapidly between the both of them, his eyes narrowed, his mouth a thin line.

Dean had made the rest of the goodbyes quick and simple, doing his best to make sure it didn’t look suspicious; God knew Cas was already trying to do that himself. He was tempted to tell Cas to quit looking like that, because the last thing he needed was for somebody to get the idea that he was fucking gay. He’d hustled Cas back to the car and gotten him inside, and as he’d started it, he’d risked a glance next to him.

Crap. This wasn’t good. This really wasn’t good. Cas’s arms were wrapped tightly around himself, and Dean hadn’t missed the way he’d pretty much thrown himself into the passenger side seat. He was glaring fiercely at the dashboard, refusing to look at Dean; Dean was grateful that Cas couldn’t light things on fire with his mind anymore, otherwise he might be getting a little singed. Uneasily and starting to feel a little guilty now (which wasn’t fucking _fair_ , because he’d hardly even kissed back!), he started the car, eager to get back to the motel and get Cas in it.

The drive was horrible. Cas still wouldn’t talk, just sitting over there stewing. Dean was getting more and more uncomfortable, wanting to say something but—well, what the fuck was he _supposed_ to say? He remembered the last time Cas had an issue about Dean and girls. _Christ_ , did he ever remember it. And there was no possible way he could take a repeat of that; if Cas was getting it into his head again that he needed to _leave_ or some shit, Dean would so punch him in the face. He hadn’t that first time, but he’d do it now; just see if he wouldn’t.

By the time they got back to their motel, Dean was appalled to note that he was almost _squirming_ in his seat. What the _fuck_? This was ridiculous—he hadn’t—he hadn’t _done_ anything! How was he supposed to have known that Carrie was gonna do that? Besides, what about the times that he’d been on a job with Cas and the girls had clearly _wanted_ him to kiss them goodbye and he hadn’t, huh? He didn’t even kiss the girls when he was riding with Sam—only time it ever happened was like this one where the girl kissed him _first_ , thank you very much. What, was Cas mad that Dean didn’t immediately pull back and slap her? Like hell he was gonna do that! She didn’t know he…wasn’t—wasn’t _available_. Dean made it a _point_ to make sure people didn’t know that, goddammit, and he thought Cas _understood_ that! Why did he change his mind all of the sudden?! There was something else he’d punch him for if it came down to it—that son of a bitch so much as _implied_ he wanted them to—to fucking _come out_ or something, oh, he’d do more than punch him. He’d fucking _kill him_.

And on top of everything, did _Dean_ get mad that one time a girl had decided to give a Thank You Kiss not to him, but to _Cas_? _No. Not everyone decides to panic like you did when a pretty girl kisses him, you douche._

Dean sighed hugely; ranting in his head about that wasn’t going to help matters. Another glance at Cas revealed that he was still fuming. Something needed to be done about this. So, before he even pulled the keys out, Dean shifted awkwardly in his seat and cleared his throat.

“Cas,” he started, and resisted the urge to scowl when Cas didn’t look at him. “Look, I—I’m sorry about that back there. Really. I…I didn’t know she was gonna do that. But…” He scratched the back of his neck. “But sometimes women…just do that to, you know, say thank you. It didn’t… _mean_ anything. Like that time Penelope kissed you after you’d saved her from that revenant, remember? But I swear, seriously—I didn’t know she would just…kiss me like that. But it’s nothing. Seriously. So don’t—don’t be…mad. At me.”

Cas was still looking huffy, which irritated Dean—what, did he want his apology delivered on bended knee or some crap? But before Dean could voice said irritation, Cas replied. “I’m not mad at you,” he said snippily.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Then why the hell are you PMSing? Come on, Cas, you’re mad, and I know it—”

“I am _not_ , Dean,” he groused, finally looking up at him, still impressively bitchy; must’ve been taking lessons from Sam. “That—that _woman_ took liberties.”

Dean blinked. “What?”

“She took _liberties_ ,” Cas repeated. “She had no right to do that.” He went back to glaring at the dashboard, his arms still tightly crossed. “She was obviously promiscuous,” he muttered darkly.

Dean’s jaw dropped. For a moment, all he could do was just sit and stare, unable to process what was happening here. But when his brain finally did, he refused to believe it. No way—no _way_. “Dude,” he said slowly, “did…did you just call her a whore?”

“ _No_ ,” Cas said fiercely and immediately, but still wouldn’t look at him.

He just about burst out laughing right then. _Holy crap, he’s—seriously?!_ After so many years, after all this time, Cas was—he was—

Sweet Christ. The _Angel of the Lord_ having a _jealous hissy_ was about the funniest damn thing he’d seen in a very long time. And over something this _stupid_ , no less. God, Cas was such an idiot.

“Come on,” he said, managing to keep most of the laughter out of his voice. “Get inside; I’ll get the bags.”

Cas did so, not slamming the door when he did (which was good, because amused as he was, he may have had to thump Cas for that), but he definitely stomped to their motel room, yanking his key out and flouncing his way inside. Okay, that was too much—Dean laughed. Quietly, of course, but he definitely laughed. Because this was _hilarious_.

He easily scooped up their bags, shutting the trunk with his elbow and striding into the motel, feeling a little bounce in his step as he did. He slid both bags under one of the beds after kicking the door shut, and then he turned back around to lock everything tight. Cas was in the bathroom; no doubt he was in there trying to think of some way to hex poor Carrie in a way that wasn’t _technically_ black magic. Dean chuckled again, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it over a chair before he sat down in the same one so he could take off his shoes. Once out of them, he stood again, stretching tall, his fingertips reaching for the ceiling.

The door swung open then, and Dean turned away so Cas wouldn’t see him grinning when Dean noticed he was _still_ bitchfacing. Dean composed himself while Cas washed his hands, and when he was done, the frumpy way he was still stomping around as he made to go past Dean to undoubtedly fling himself on the bed and sulk was just way too much. Dean grabbed his upper arm on his way past him and just used the momentum to swing him around, getting both arms around Cas, his hands clasped against the small of his back. He bumped his forehead against Cas’s, smirking down at him. “You know, when we were coming into town, I saw what looked like a pretty sweet Indian buffet—had plenty of cars in front of it, anyway. You wanna hit that for dinner?” he asked.

Cas was already starting to melt, just like this, but he was still a little stiff even as he curled his own arms around Dean. “That would be nice,” he answered after a pause.

“Get you some tikka masala. It’s been a while since you got some, hasn’t it?”

“Yes—it upsets Bobby’s stomach, so we don’t get it at home.”

“Mmm. Been a while for me too—I could use some myself. Maybe we can find a good movie afterwards. Lotta new stuff out this week, and there’s what looks like a pretty nice theater in town. Like that idea?”

“Yes,” Cas replied, reaching up to pick at Dean’s collar, still looking slightly sulky.

“No 3D, though, right? Don’t want you to get motion sickness,” Dean smirked down at him, because Cas being prone to motion sickness now that he was human was still funny.

“No, I don’t want 3D.”

“We won’t, don’t worry. But,” he suddenly said, sliding his hands lower and digging them into the back pockets of Cas’s jeans, “until then, we’ve got a whole lot of nowhere to be with plenty of time to get there. So, what do you say to a quick shower?” And he leaned down and kissed Cas, just a brief and chaste one, his grin getting even wider.

And that was all it took to get every last trace of Cas’s funk to vanish. Didn’t matter that they’d both showered this morning—no way Cas was gonna turn that down, who cared how hard he was pouting. Besides, they had gotten a little roughed up and sweaty on the hunt. May as well shower again. And, as Dean said, they didn’t have anything better to do.

Dean let Cas go so he could strip out of his clothes; Dean started doing the same, pulling his shirt over his head and letting it fall wherever before shucking his pants and his shorts at the same time, making sure to get his socks in there as well when he stepped out of them. As a result, he was in the bathroom first because Cas had to untie his shoes and get them off as well, so he got the shower started and heated up first. Little unusual; Cas was usually the one who got things going. But hey, who cared.

Water was nice and hot when Dean stepped in—little too hot for his tastes, but it’d make Cas happy. It always did. Cas did not keep him waiting, either, immediately dashing in all naked and shutting the door behind him, pulling back the shower curtain and jumping in. The second he got that curtain yanked back around the tub he was immediately all grasping hands—didn’t matter how many times they’d done this, it never failed to amuse Dean just how fast a hot shower made Cas go all horny and grabby.

Dean let himself get pushed against the wall this time, too busy enjoying the way Cas’s mouth was on his own to care about small details like that. Cas was particularly insistent today, already getting hard and humping against Dean as he tightly gripped his hair with one hand, the other squeezing one of his buttcheeks. Dean wasn’t gonna play dumb and pretend he didn’t know why Cas was this way—and for some reason, knowing that made everything just all the better, so all Dean really wanted to do was _let_ Cas be all grabby and insistent.

But not for long—no, Dean already had plans for this shower. Cas could be possessive later.

Being gentle about it, Dean reached up and gripped his upper arms, slowly pushing himself away from the wall and turning them so Cas was right under the spray of hot water. Cas blinked rapidly as he was immediately doused, his hair getting flattened and plastered to his head, and Dean resisted the urge to snicker. Instead, he just grinned at him, ducking his head to kiss him briefly, and then he reached over and grabbed the rag and the soap—Cas’s own soap from home, of course, the stuff he always brought with them because one bad turn with motel soap meant all motel soap was officially Evil—and ran both under the water, getting the rag all wet and soaped up while Cas continued to paw at him. Dean let him; the combination of his eager fingers and the way the water ran down his skin always felt like Cas had grown a few extra pairs of hands so he could grope more of him at once and it felt awesome.

Mmm—Cas always used Ivory. He’d never gone for any stupid scented soaps (and Dean may have had to punch him if he did that), so it was nothin’ but _clean_. He set the bar aside, then just pulled Cas forward again, right into his arms and angling him away from the shower spray as he did, and started leisurely stroking the soapy rag up and down his back as he held him. Idly, he remembered the first shower they ever had together—that had been awkward turned awesome. And Cas, the idiot, had tried to fake indifference. Well, he wasn’t faking anything now—he was licking Dean’s neck, actually, and his boner was poking Dean in the hip. That was fine—Dean was poking him right back in the belly.

Dean kept his motions slow, just scrubbing his back in lazy circles, letting Cas keep doing what he was doing—that being groping Dean’s butt and kissing his neck. However, Dean decided it was time to put a stop to that when Cas just full-on bit him, right on the shoulder; there would be none of that. Not now, anyway—not until Dean decided there would be. Dean easily got him turned around and was pleased when his own cock slid right up against Cas’s ass, all slippery with soap and water, and _shit_ , that felt good, the way it was moving back and forth between his buttcheeks with even the slightest motion from either of them. _Don’t get distracted_ , he reminded himself, which got him moving and right back to business, sliding the rag across Cas’s stomach and chest and up his neck, making him tilt his head back, and Dean briefly kissed right behind his ear before his hand started working it’s way back down.

Jesus, it didn’t matter what he was doing, Cas was still squirmy—here Dean was, trying to give him a good time, and all he did was fuss. Couldn’t he just sit still and take it? Apparently not—he just kept fussing, grinding his butt against Dean, which was making his strokes on Cas’s stomach stutter. Very unacceptable, because Cas wasn’t in charge today (or any day, really, but that was beside the point).

Well, Dean knew a good way to maybe make him settle down—or make him realize the score, at least. So he let go of the rag, letting it fall to the floor as he stepped backwards and turned, taking Cas with him. Once Dean felt his own back hit the wall, he slipped one arm low around Cas’s stomach, yanking him tight against him. Then he got his other hand nice and sudsy before reaching down and just grabbing Cas’s prick.

The breathy, “ _Oh!_ ” he got was exactly what he was looking for—that, and the way Cas jerked against his hand. Cas groped backwards, trying to get his hand in Dean’s hair, and finally managing when Dean obliged him and leaned his head down so he could nibble the hot, wet skin on his neck. He kept his grip tight, jerking him steadily and enjoying the way Cas thrust into his hand, because every time he did, he would inevitably grind against Dean’s own prick on the backswing. He felt Cas’s fingers slide around his wrist, but didn’t have much time to think about that as Cas writhed around until he managed to tilt his head back enough to messily kiss Dean, and he moaned when Dean reached down and squeezed his balls.

“ _Dean_ ,” he breathed, arching up against Dean’s hand.

“That’s right,” Dean murmured back, pulling Cas harder against himself even as he pushed his hips forward against Cas’s ass. Cas gave a little whimper, and then Dean let him go, knowing precisely what Cas would do now that he was free to move around. He didn’t disappoint, immediately whirling around and grabbing Dean, his fingers knotting in his hair as he yanked him forward and kissed him frantically because apparently, Cas had decided that if _he_ couldn’t breathe, Dean wasn’t allowed to, either. It didn’t help that he was now thrusting up against him so that their cocks were rubbing together, and Dean was half-tempted to just reach down and grab them both and keep them that way and just go at it like that, but no, he wasn’t gonna do that. The finish wasn’t gonna be in here.

‘Course, Cas didn’t know that. Which explained why he humped up against Dean only one more time before his mouth and the rest of him vanished because he’d just decided it was time to go down.

Dean’s immediate thought was to grab him and prevent him from doing it—they didn’t do blowjobs in the shower very often to begin with because they could do that anywhere, so why would he want waste Cas’s slippery wet thighs like that?—and considering how _fierce_ Cas was being, Dean had no doubt he’d be damn tenacious about it today.

 _Eh. Fuck it_ , he thought, letting Cas drop to his knees as he dragged his hands down Dean’s chest and sides on his way. Cas loved giving and Dean loved receiving—why _not_ do this for a little bit? It’d make Cas happy, at any rate. To say nothing of himself. Dean shifted a little, making sure that Cas was still under the steamy spray but that he wouldn’t be drowning down there. Cas, however, didn’t seem to care; he already had his hands on Dean, his grip tight on the base of his cock.

Jesus Christ, he wasn’t wasting any time—despite watching him the whole damn time, Dean jumped when his cock was suddenly in Cas’s mouth, and it was hot and wet and sucking, and he definitely wasn’t starting all soft and gentle at all, either. Dean quickly got a hand in Cas’s hair, ready to make him back off when he felt like it. The motions of Cas’s head were sure and steady, and Dean watched his prick slide in and out of Cas’s mouth— _fuck_ , that was way hotter than it had any right to be. You’d think he would’ve gotten used to that by now or something, but no, watching while Cas sucked him off was still awesome and it always turned him on something fierce— _especially_ when Cas _looked_ up at him the _whole time_ , his eyes big and blue and fiery as he sucked, as he swallowed him down all the way—

“Oh, _fuck_ , Cas,” Dean groaned, both his hands in Cas’s hair now, and he shivered when Cas responded with a nice, long hummer. Yeah, couldn’t keep watching that and feeling it at the same time, or everything would be over immediately. Dean didn’t mind that he hit his head a little too hard against the shower wall as he leaned back to stare at the ceiling; any distraction was welcome at this point.

The need for distractions became even more necessary as Cas started massaging his balls in time with his sucking, _squeezing_ whenever he swallowed him down, and Dean couldn’t help but rock his hips against it all, pushing his cock deeper into Cas’s mouth, and he spread his legs a tad to give Cas more room. Dean let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding when his dick finally slipped out of Cas’s mouth, but of course that didn’t mean he was stopping. Nope—Cas just started _licking_ him, all over, his tongue wiggling deep into the slit at the end, and Dean _knew_ he was staring at him because he could feel it—could feel Cas just _looking_ at him from down on his knees…

He arched a little, hissing a breath between his teeth when he felt Cas’s fingers moving—his palm stayed on his balls, pressing and rolling in circles, but his fingers—his fingers were there, on his _taint_ , just rubbing like usual whenever he got nervy enough to do it, and it still made Dean go tense even though he wasn’t gonna go further back because _that wasn’t allowed_ so he never did—except he _was_ , he _so was_ , _he was going there_ , just _rubbing_ — _oh fuck right there on his asshole—!_

His free hand shot down to clamp the wrist of Cas’s wandering hand, a strangled shout trying to force its way out of his throat. _No no no, don’t yell at him, last thing he needs is_ that _, just fucking_ do something _, though, he’s_ touching your fucking asshole _, Winchester!_ his mind kept screaming at him, and yeah, he _was_ gonna do something—he was putting a damn stop to it, was what he was doing. He didn’t—didn’t fucking _care_ that it felt good and didn’t fucking care that that’s all it was, just a little tease, no sign of Cas wanting to get—get all up _in_ him, he just— _no._ No Man’s Land, dammit. Emphasis on the “no” and the “man”. _That was not happening_ , and it especially wasn’t happening because of— _no._

“Cas— _Cas_ — _don’t_ —” he managed to gasp, tugging on his hair and sharply yanking his hand out from between his legs. Cas backed off immediately, and good thing for him or else Dean would have had to deck him, fuck the mood. Dean looked back down, his pulse thumping loudly in his ears, and—dammit, why did all of his previous outrage vanish at the sight of Cas down there on his knees, all wet and fucking licking his lips like that, panting softly and looking all bright-eyed and eager? He took a deep breath and let it out slow before he tugged again, and Cas rose obediently to his feet, immediately lunging forward and throwing himself at Dean, his mouth hot and enthusiastic as his tongue thrust forward to meet Dean’s. Dean let go of his hair to reach down and grab his ass with both hands as he pushed his own hips forward, making them both moan as their cocks slid together like that, hot and firm and _slick_ …

Nice as this was, Dean figured if they kept this up much longer, there wouldn’t be much left to do in bed. So he easily got them turned around, mashing Cas against the wall and kissing him hard, not letting him up for air—the old, tried-and-true method of making Cas simmer down and slow his roll. Just cut off his damn air supply.

Yep—there he went. Cas arched up against him for a moment or two, scrabbling against his chest and even hiking his leg up and trying to get it on Dean’s hip, but Dean wasn’t gonna hold it up for him and the water made his skin too slick for it to rest there without sliding off. So not long after he just kind of melted, sagging against the wall in his usual passivity until Dean finally stopped kissing him and let him suck in a breath again.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s get outta here—go out there instead.”

Cas opened his eyes, panting softly, and then nodded before he leaned forward again for another kiss. Dean let him, because he’d wanted it too, but he refused to let him keep it up for long. He let it last for a few seconds before he pulled away, dropping his arms and shaking his head a little when Cas actually slid a few inches down the wall when his support vanished. Jesus, he was such a dork. Just a complete and utter _dork_.

He hopped out of the shower before Cas did, and as he grabbed the towels, he saw that Cas looked a little reluctant to do the same. Dean smirked—was he seriously having trouble trying to decide which one he’d rather have, more time in the shower or sex? Now Cas’s constant desire for a heat source was _seriously_ messing with his priorities, man. Dean left him to get himself straightened out, walking out and wiping himself down at the same time, and he was already halfway done when the water finally shut off. Guess Cas finally decided which of his two needs was more important, and it was a good thing he picked the _right_ choice, otherwise Dean may have just _dragged_ him out of there, because dammit, he could get under the covers if he was cold.

 _Or you could just warm him up._ Dean snorted to himself, rubbing the towel briefly across his head before he just tossed it on the ground; no point in wearing it, because he was so not gonna be needing that in a second.

Dean stretched, hearing Cas shuffling around behind him and waiting for him to catch up, and it wasn’t long before Cas just stepped right up behind him, sliding his arms around Dean from behind. Dean felt a tiny twinge of irritation—Cas knew better than to press all up against him like this when they were naked—but he ignored it, forcefully shoving it aside because one of Cas’s hands was pressed tight against his ribs, his fingers flexing gently, as he rested his warm cheek on Dean’s shoulder. It was _fine_ —Cas wasn’t…wasn’t doing anything, and he was holding his hips away a little. Dean could deal with it.

Cas’s breath was hot where it skated across his skin, but he still was getting goosebumps—being naked and damp would do that, after all. Sighing a little, Dean reached up and covered Cas’s hand with his own, knowing it’d make Cas happy, and yes, it totally did—his grip tightened, and Dean was amused that he even managed to make this somehow… _possessive._

Just thinking about it got him moving again, and he easily twisted around in Cas’s arms, turning so he could get a hold on him and gently pull him onto the bed. He went more than willingly, not wasting any time in making Dean get on his back; just as Dean thought, he wanted to go right back to his blowjob. Absolutely nothing could put him off of those, dude, not even a change of scenery mid-blow.

Dean shifted until he was sitting up, his back against the headboard, and Dean let Cas grip his slightly-raised knees and push them apart before he moved between them, reaching eagerly for Dean’s prick. In the move and with…everything else, he’d gone about half-soft again, but he had a feeling Cas was gonna take care of that in short order.

Mmm—his grip was tight as he tugged him, and Dean closed his eyes when Cas leaned up to kiss his throat as he did, sucking gently right on his pulse before licking his way up to Dean’s mouth, and Dean returned that with equal enthusiasm, groping his way down to grab Cas’s butt as he did. But it wasn’t long before Cas pulled back, pausing briefly when he did to give Dean a very bright and intense look, just right there inches from his face. And then he was gone, petting his way down Dean’s chest and wriggling so that he was right between Dean’s legs, staring up at Dean with a look that made Dean feel warm all over. Then he sighed in satisfaction when Cas once more did not waste any time and just slid Dean’s prick into his mouth.

That was a lot better—he wasn’t frantic and fierce like he had been in the shower. Dean opened his eyes and stroked Cas’s wet hair, just watching and enjoying how everything felt. He knew Cas could get wild in a hurry, so he savored the slow movements and gentle sucking while he could. Dean watched Cas’s mouth as he sucked him for a moment or two before tracing his spine with his eyes, idly skipping over the scars, and then admiring that round little ass. Then he went back up, taking the smooth side as he did, and stared back at Cas when he reached the top again— _fuck_ , he never could take it when Cas stared at him while he was sucking his cock. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, inhaling a deep, steadying breath before exhaling through his teeth.

Dean grunted thickly when Cas unexpectedly took him deep, but then he pulled off, working him with his hand, and Dean bit his lip when Cas started licking his balls before sucking them one at a time into his mouth, tugging them a little each time. Dean tightened his fingers in Cas’s hair when his tongue ran all the way up Dean’s prick, and then he couldn’t help but get both hands in it when Cas started just sucking the end, licking hard at the tip, pushing all in it like he always did, and it drove Dean _insane_ , to the point that he had to grab his hair just so he could have something to hang onto.

He definitely recognized this—it was a _deceptively_ slow pace. It was slow, sure, but it did not _stop_. If Dean let him keep this up, he’d just keep going, taking as few breaks as possible, but only stopping his sucking to lick and kiss and rub, and he’d just keep going until Dean was just about ready to blow, and _then_ he’d stop, calming them both down—and then he’d start all over. Only he’d be not-so-gentle about it. He’d probably start fucking _rimming_ him, too, just because he could (and Dean didn’t think he could handle that one right now). Basically, Cas would do anything he could to make Dean pretty much ready to explode by the time it was all over and leave him completely exhausted afterwards, feeling wrung out and shivering, and wanting nothing more than to sleep for a week. And it was _fucking awesome_ every time he did it.

But…and he felt crazy for thinking it…Dean was not gonna let that happen tonight. Cas always had a sore jaw in the morning, and considering that Dean knew _why_ he was planning on exerting himself right now, it was gonna be pretty serious afterwards. He’d probably have trouble eating his dinner if he did it. So, Dean wasn’t gonna let him. No mouth marathon.

Didn’t mean Cas couldn’t keep up what he was doing for a little bit longer, though.

Wriggling a little, he settled more comfortably against the pillows and headboard as Cas flickered tiny, teasing licks all over his cock, one hand squeezing his sack, before he started up the sucking again, his head moving steadily up and down under Dean’s hands. Cas’s fingers were squeezing Dean’s hips, and Dean groaned when he _hmmed_ around his prick. He felt one of Cas’s hands creeping upwards, pressing up against his ribs, and Dean reached up to hold it there just like before, and just like before he felt Cas shiver and felt his fingers flex. Oh, _fuck_ , he went deep, and of course it felt great, then he pulled back and did it _again_ —shit shit _shit_ , Dean could not take it when he did that, just deep-throating him on _every stroke forward_ —

 _Okay_ , time to calm down, because this—things were just way too hot in his groin right now. He’d wanted to let Cas go for a bit longer, but…

Releasing Cas’s hand, he grabbed his hair with both hands again, opening his eyes and looking down just in time to see his cock all the way in Cas’s mouth, and Cas’s big, shining eyes gazing adoringly up at him, with that fucking _look_ on his face, like he was—somehow _begging_ Dean to rate him because he thought he existed only to get Dean off or something—

“Get up here,” Dean managed, pulling on him, and Cas slowly pulled off of Dean’s prick, leaving it glistening with saliva, and he followed his order, crawling up and pretty much getting in Dean’s lap as Dean immediately wrapped his arms tight around him, letting Cas kiss him hard and giving back as good as he got.

Nice as it was, having Cas frot against him (and grind that sweet ass against his prick sometimes too), he put a stop to it in short order. Dean let Cas have his way with him, so now it was _his_ turn. Well, not exactly—he just…didn’t feel like going down on Cas today, no matter the situation. Just didn’t want cock in his mouth after he’d been kissed by a girl. So, after kissing Cas one last time—just a long, drawn-out one, one hand in Cas’s hair and the other stroking up and down Cas’s thigh—he pulled away, bumping Cas backwards as he did and making it clear that kissing time was over for the time being. Cas got the message, fortunately, just keeping his arms around Dean’s shoulders as he stared down at him, panting.

Dean slid his hands to Cas’s hips, pushing gently until Cas took the initiative, swinging himself off of Dean. Dean waited patiently until he was on his back on the mattress, and then he moved, heaving himself up and crawling to the edge of the bed, lying down flat so he could grope under there and get at his bag.

Somehow, it was both surprising and unsurprising when the bed shifted and suddenly Cas’s hands were sliding up his legs, and Dean was kind of glad to feel that because it was prior warning for when the little creep just made himself at home on top of Dean and went straight for his ass.

Dean’s fingers fumbled a little when both of Cas’s hands squeezed his buttcheeks. No, there was no way he was gonna be doing that—dammit, why had he shoved the bags so far under there?! Groping more insistently, he inhaled sharply when Cas just fucking _bit him_ , right on the left asscheek, and then sucked on the same spot, no doubt leaving a hickey. But then he was back to nibbling, kissing, and licking— _Jesus_ Christ _, Cas!_

Dean nearly growled in frustration when he finally pulled out the bag only to realize he’d grabbed Cas’s by mistake. Shoving it away, he stretched to grab his own and grunted pathetically when Cas suddenly licked right up his asscrack, his tongue on his asshole, lapping insistently, and no, _no_ , Dean was _not_ interested in that, _not today_ —

Finally he snagged his own duffle, yanking haphazardly at the pockets and trying to get into the right one as Cas just kept _doing_ that, driving him fucking _insane_ , and he almost spilled everything all over the floor, he was so frantic to get at the lube, but finally he did, seizing the heated stuff and pushing himself up, making Cas have to stop eating him out at that point. _God_ , why did he _always_ want to go and do that?!

Dean finally had to get forceful when it became clear that Cas was still being all grabby hands, especially after he saw the bottle of heated lube that Dean had. _Time and a place for everything_ , Dean grumbled to himself, getting a good grip on Cas’s upper arms and making him lie backwards. Cas went easily enough, though he was doing his damnedest to drag Dean down with him so he could try and frot up against him. Cas really needed to learn when it was his turn to lie back and take it.

After putting up with Cas’s handsy shenanigans for a moment more, Dean finally made it clear that it was time to calm down by kissing him hard and not letting up, all while mashing him into the mattress to keep him still. Didn’t take too long for the wiggler to simmer down, and by the time Dean stopped kissing Cas and let him take that wheezing breath, he was clinging helplessly—but calmly.

Well, the sight of Cas panting under him was a little too much to resist, so he leaned down to press one more soft, slow kiss against his mouth. But then he pulled back and rolled mostly off of him, keeping one leg swung up to pin both of Cas’s legs down. Keeping half an eye on Cas, he uncapped the lube, deciding to skip getting a handful and just tipping the bottle right over Cas’s cock, letting it drizzle on him. After he snapped the bottle closed again, he tossed it over on the bed and then reached down, deciding to be nice and not taunt him, and curled his fingers around Cas’s prick.

He gave Cas a few short, sharp tugs just to get it all heated up before he slid his slick hand lower, smearing the lube all over Cas’s balls while he was at it, rubbing and squeezing softly and making Cas squirm. Then he trailed his hand back up, grabbing his dick again and started up a slow yet steady jerk, circling the head with his thumb on every upstroke. Yeah, Cas liked that—Dean would never get tired of those happy noises of his. But he wasn’t exactly content to just sit here and stare at him while he was working him, so Dean leaned down and nuzzled Cas’s jaw, making him turn his head just enough so that he could get right there up under his chin and start pressing teasing kisses and licks and nibbles all along his throat. He grinned against Cas’s skin when he felt Cas’s hand blunder up his back as he flung one arm around him and just started clinging again, his fingers flexing convulsively against Dean’s shoulder every time he jerked him. He kissed his way to where Cas’s neck met his shoulder, and right as he slipped his hand down between Cas’s thighs and squeezed his sack, he bit down gently, pleased at the way Cas moaned pitifully. Dean eased his weight off Cas’s legs, sliding his own down a bit because he’d need a little more room in a second. He kept up the motions of his hand on Cas’s balls for a second or two before he slid his fingers backwards, rubbing on Cas’s taint, and yep, Cas knew what that meant, and even without seeing his face Dean knew he was getting that excited look. He knew it because he felt his chest hitch and immediately felt him writhing around, trying to get his legs spread a bit more because for some bizarre reason, Cas _always_ wanted Dean’s fingers up his ass. Freak.

Well, just ‘cause Dean was spoiling Cas today didn’t mean he was gonna get what he wanted. Immediately, anyway. So he just rubbed the same spot a little more before squeezing his balls again and returning to stroking his cock. Cas didn’t seem to care—unsurprising, seeing as Dean may not have been fingering him, but he was still indulging him. Cas was like that; so long as Dean was touching him, he was perfectly happy.

Really, Dean was starting to think that the heated stuff was his favorite of all the different lubes they used. The flavored stuff…well, that was mostly so he could make giving Cas a blowjob more bearable (Cas had only used it twice himself while sucking Dean off, and Dean had been slightly appalled when Cas had politely told him that he preferred not to use it). Cas wasn’t into the seriously tingling stuff, which was good, because Dean had never been too hot on it either, so they didn’t have that, and the thick stuff was nothing special, just thicker for when…well, when they needed it…but the heated lube…

He just had always loved it. The way it heated up so fast and made everything hot, and the way it could make an Oxford feel almost _exactly_ like a _real_ fuck with a woman, just with _Cas_ , just how he liked it.

Dean smirked. ‘Course, with the way Dean kept spreading the stuff around, Cas probably thought that was the plan for tonight. Nope.

Sliding his fingers back down under Cas’s balls, he rubbed back and forth across his asshole a few times, and then Cas‘s stomach convulsed and he made a pathetic mewling sound when Dean slowly pushed just one finger up his ass, going all the way in just in one smooth, slow, fluid motion.

Cas’s back arched and he gasped, his fingers squeezing where he was hanging onto Dean’s shoulders. Cas loved the hot stuff too, so Dean just kept it moving, slowly finger-fucking him as he nibbled behind Cas’s ear. One of Cas’s hands blundered upwards and got into his hair, and his grip was tight enough so that it hurt, but Dean would allow it. Cas whimpered when Dean added a second finger right as he bit the same spot on Cas’s throat that he’d just been sucking, and Dean knew that the activities down south were _almost_ teasing for Cas—because he may have been fingering him, but he was deliberately avoiding the sweet spot as he slid his fingers in and out of him. But, so long as it wasn’t _completely_ teasing, Cas didn’t care.

“That feel nice?” Dean murmured against Cas’s neck, slipping his tongue out to lap gently at his pulse.

“Mmm— _yes_ ,” Cas groaned.

“Good,” Dean breathed, tilting his hand so that his wrist could rub against Cas’s balls.

“You want more? Want another?”

“Yes—I want more..”

Cas’s moan when Dean finally eased in a third finger was just awesome, and because Dean was nice and Cas had better not forget it, he pushed in deep and just right until Cas jerked helplessly and choked out, “ _Dean…_ ”

‘Kay. Dean had been fully prepared to do work him for a little longer, but he had to go and do that and it made Dean’s prick just _ache_. Just ‘cause he wanted to treat Cas didn’t mean he had to friggin’ _deny_ himself or something.

He withdrew his fingers and then, keeping a hand on Cas’s inner thigh, rolled between his parted legs, closing his eyes and humming a little when his cock got up against Cas’s hot and slick one. Yeah, that was awesome. He rocked his hips as he groped around for the lube, wanting to give them both another shot, but of course Cas was doing his best to complicate that. He kept trying to pull Dean down and get his arms and legs all around him, and it was ridiculous. However, Dean had himself braced nicely, half up on his knees and his palm sinking into the bed with his elbow locked. Cas wasn’t dragging him anywhere.

He finally got the lube and flicked it open with his thumb, tipping it and letting it drizzle on both of their cocks. He tossed it aside for good when he was done this time, seeing as he wouldn’t be needing it again. After that, he drew his knees up a bit more so Cas would have to spread his own legs some more and give Dean room, and then he reached between them and pressed both of their dicks together. He and Cas sighed together when Dean started gently thrusting his hips as he moved his hand, getting the lube nice and hot as he did. Cas was still pawing at him and tugging, so Dean conceded to dropping from where he was propped up on his palm and went down to his elbow, and Cas was quick to take advantage of that, lunging upward to kiss him frantically as he tried to speed things up, bending his knees to thrust his hips upwards, trying to frot against Dean faster than was allowed. Well, Dean didn’t want things to speed up, so he could deal. He kissed back as he wormed his hand under Cas, and then got him to arch up a bit so he could kiss down, down his jaw, his neck, pausing to leave a nice hickey on his clavicle, and then continuing down, but he stopped right before he dipped below his collar bones, not moving down to where he knew Cas’s heart was hammering out of control.

That’s when he stilled his hips, letting go of Cas’s prick to get a grip on just his own. He looked up and was unable to keep himself from smirking a bit when he saw that Cas was actually looking _confused_ , and a little frustrated—did he seriously have no idea what the score was? What an idiot. Well, it made his sudden, dawning realization all the better when Dean pulled his hips away only to push forward again, dragging his cock under Cas’s balls, seeking what he wanted—

Cas looked like he was about to die from sheer ecstasy as Dean rubbed the head of his cock against his asshole, teasing him for just a moment or two, but then he pushed forward— _fuck_ , that was always so _awesome_ , when he got inside that tight heat, and this was so hot with the lube they used…

Cas tilted his hips as Dean slowly slid inside him, inch by inch, one of his hands groping downward to grab Dean’s ass, urging him forward—Cas really needed to calm down. And, as Dean exhaled shakily when he was finally all the way in, his hips up against Cas’s, he knew the perfect way to do it.

Reaching up with his dry hand, he got his fingers in Cas’s hair, tilting his head just right as he kissed him, refusing to let Cas make it any deeper than Dean wanted, and when he finally broke it, he kept his lips right against Cas’s and kept his eyes open, waiting for Cas to look back, and when he did, Dean whispered it against his lips, barely loud enough to hear. “Love you…”

As Dean rubbed his thumb against Cas’s fluttering pulse, he smiled when Cas looked positively overjoyed, his eyes huge and shiny, and then his arms were around Dean and he buried his face against his shoulder, trembling and gasping. His thighs tightened around Dean’s hips as Dean moved carefully, just thrusting shallowly a few times.

“Dean…” Cas moaned, his voice quivering, and then he moaned again when Dean thrust forward a little harder this time. “Dean, I—I love you…” he finally breathed, moving against Dean’s thrusts now.

Dean kissed him then, loving how Cas just clung to him, and he loved how Cas groaned into his mouth when Dean wormed his free hand, the one still slick with lube, in between them and wrapped his fingers around Cas’s cock, jerking him in time with his easy thrusting. Cas’s grip on him was so damn tight, making sure that every inch of him was pressed up against Dean, his heels dragging up Dean’s calves. He made a soft little noise every time Dean pushed forward, and _Jesus_ , Dean swore he was just clenching down every time, too. This had no right to be this good…

He kept his thrusts slow but deep, pulling back almost all the way and then sliding deliciously forward again until he was buried back inside of Cas, loving the little sound Cas made every time he did and feeling how he’d arch his back, tilting his hips so Dean felt like he was somehow going in even _deeper_. Why did they fit so well like this? It made no sense—and yet here it was, Cas trembling violently with every push forward, wrapped around him and squeezing him tightly _everywhere_ , and it all just felt _right_.

Dean pushed up a little so he could jerk Cas’s cock easier, stroking the head with his thumb just as he angled his hips just right on the next thrust, and he smiled when Cas let out a soft cry.

“Oh— _oh_ —Dean, I—” he moaned pitifully, his fingers digging into Dean’s shoulders, and Dean just watched for a second or two—watched Cas panting, his eyes squeezed shut as he shuddered under Dean’s efforts. But watching wasn’t as much fun as getting involved, so he dropped back down, taking a moment to briefly be irritated with the fact that it was harder to work everything due to Cas being a dude—had to thrust at a funny angle, and not as easy to keep his hand moving where it was pinned between their stomachs—but it didn’t last long as he nuzzled and licked at Cas’s throat, picking up the pace a bit, loving how the heat was building up in him and oozing down his legs.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas gasped sharply, because apparently Dean had pushed his button again, and Cas’s thighs twitched tighter on his hips. “Love you—I— _oh_ —”

Dean just smiled against his skin as whatever else he was gonna say got cut off. “Mmm—Cas,” Dean breathed, slipping his tongue out to lick Cas’s pulse, starting to pant pretty hard himself. “Feels good—you love this?”

“ _Yes._ ” Cas’s heels dug into Dean’s upper thighs, almost urging him forward and faster; Dean obliged him.

“It’s good—so good— _fuck_ —” Dean moaned, because Cas squeezed him hard there, because he knew that was a sure-fire way to make Dean get down to business. Dean wasn’t about to change his pattern now, so he started to thrust in earnest, getting just the right angle so that he knew he was getting that sweet spot, and he definitely knew he’d done it because Cas was practically sobbing, clinging to him and shaking and obviously way close to just coming all over himself.

 _Well, wait for me_ , he thought to himself, pausing to push his knees up a little higher and getting Cas tilted a bit better, and then he pushed further up on his palms and started going like Cas wanted, not full-on pounding him like they did when they just _fucked_ , but plenty enough that they were both making happy noises at this point (though Cas was doing it more, because Dean was awesome). However, he avoided touching Cas’s dick—working him like that and doin’ him at the same time was what got him so far ahead of Dean in the first place. So he just thrust, his hips bumping up against Cas’s every time, his eyes shut as he concentrated on that tight, sliding, _squeezing_ heat, listening to Cas’s cries, feeling Cas fingers digging into his shoulders as he clung…

“Dean— _Dean_ —I—” Cas whimpered, arching up against him every time he pushed forward now.

“Not yet,” Dean managed to whisper, and he heard Cas moan, his hands squeezing tighter. Cas just needed to hang on a minute more—Dean was _almost_ there… _fuck_ , it felt so good…

Finally Dean opened his eyes to look at Cas, to watch him, and yes, it was just how he wanted—Cas with his head thrown back, his throat exposed, his mouth open as he gasped in ecstasy, and _that’s_ what did it, that shot fire right down into the pit of Dean’s stomach and got it all going, _fuck yes_ , just _watching_ Cas, everything was so _tight_ now, inside and out—

Dean fumbled upwards until he got one hand around Cas’s wrist, and then he yanked it away from his shoulder, dragging it down until he made Cas press his hand right there, right on his chest because it was time for Cas’s big finish and he knew that would make it _really_ big. Then he shakily snorted with laughter when Cas almost squeaked when he just reached down and grabbed his cock in a tight grip, jerking it fast and thrusting hard, angling just right… “Come on, Cas,” he panted, squeezing and thrusting deep—

Cas’s wail spiraled upwards as he thrashed and came, practically shrieking Dean’s name and _holy shit_ , that almost made _Dean_ come right there but no, he had to hold off—had to keep _moving_ —yes, Cas was _really_ getting it now because Dean was so not stopping, not until Cas was through, and he kept moving and jacking him all through his orgasm and Cas _so_ couldn’t take it because Dean was that awesome—oh, fuck, he was just saying his name—over and over— _Jesus Christ—!_

“Oh, _fuck_ , Cas!” Dean shouted, pulling back and just slamming home and _holding it_ because _yes_ there it was it all just _exploded_ and he was coming in Cas _fuck yes oh GOD yes Cas hot tight squeezing fuck yes—_

He did manage not to collapse on Cas, because collapsing on Cas meant collapsing all over where Cas had spunked up on his own stomach when he came. So he just fell to his elbows, shivering a little and panting hard, his eyes squeezed shut and wincing every time Cas shifted because when he did Dean felt it where he was still buried in his ass.

Dean cracked open his eyes after he halfway-caught his breath, staring down at Cas even though he was already feeling sleepy.

Cas was fucking _wiped out_ , Dean could tell—never mind when Dean would just bend him over for a quick fuck, doin’ him facing him like this always seemed to totally blitz him. He was shaking, still gasping and trying to breathe, his one hand limply pawing at Dean’s breastbone. He was practically cross-eyed, and looked like he’d been hit with a wrecking ball. Well, Dean was that good, after all.

Unable to help it, Dean smiled and leaned down, softly kissing him. Cas weakly kissed back, his hand slipping off of Dean’s shoulder and flopping limply down on the pillow beside him, but he managed to weakly flex his fingers on his chest where Dean had pressed them against his heart. “Dean…” he rasped, obviously struggling to keep his eyes open. “I…love you…” Dean just grinned and kissed him again for that, _hmming_ his response against his mouth as he pressed his own fingers against Cas’s ribs.

He could lay like this all day. He knew he could. Fuck the mess—yeah, they’d gone bare, yeah, there was lube and jizz everywhere, and yeah, that was nasty. But he didn’t care. This…was how he liked it. How it _should_ be.

But no. He wouldn’t sit like this all day, because yes, it _was_ nasty. However, nothing was stopping him from staying like this for a few minutes, at least. He kept his eyes closed, his forehead against Cas’s, just listening to him, feeling him still slowly relaxing as his breathing slowed. He felt Cas’s hand to come up to weakly stroke his face, and Dean didn’t shake him off, although a tiny chuff of laughter escaped him; God, he was just totally fucking stupid for the idiot angel.

When he finally opened his eyes again, there was Cas, his eyes half-lidded, his skin sweat-slicked and shiny, and he was nothing but content and satisfied.

Incidentally, Dean was pretty sure Cas had completely forgotten that Carrie existed.

Awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, issues aside, that is one thing that will never change: Dean thinks his boyfriend is the most adorable thing he’s ever seen, and every time he sees him act like a dork, Dean has to bundle him off somewhere private so he can love him up but good.


	2. You Give Love a Bad Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean always thought it was funny when a _woman_ tried hitting on Cas…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we thought we’d wrap up the little jealousy arc before going back to Dean’s serious PTSD issues. But both these fics take place between the events and resolution of “No One Like You,” and while they aren’t directly related, they do show a few little ups and downs of their relationship, and more growth on Dean’s part with trusting Cas and learning to own up to and apologize for bad behavior without prompting from Sam or Bobby.
> 
> Mrs. Hyde

_October 2027_

_Stupid angel._

Dean flopped around on the couch, trying to get comfortable, but like that was gonna happen. The piece of shit was falling apart—it was all lumpy and sagging in the middle, the stuffing falling out, and the cushions were covered in nasty puke-green cloth that smelled like ass. _And_ there was a spring poking him right in the back. How the hell had he ever managed to sleep on this thing? Oh, Sam liked to bitch that he didn’t like the upstairs couch because he was just too long for it, oh, how hard it was to be a fucking _giant_ , but Dean wasn’t _short_ , goddammit—he didn’t fit on this couch, either! He had to lay here all hunched over and with his knees bent, his spine in a permanent S-curve because the fucking thing had no support left. It was more like lying in a lumpy hammock. And while he would never, _ever_ admit it to Sam, sometimes these days his back and his joints hurt—and having to sleep all wadded up on this goddamn shit-sofa didn’t help. And it was fucking _cold_ in the back room, with just Cas’s stupid scratchy afghans for blankets, and it hadn’t been cleaned in God knew how long, so it smelled all musty and made Dean’s nose itch. He needed to tell Cas to get off his sorry ass and clean up back here once in a while—well, he _could_ tell Cas that, but he wasn’t gonna, because Cas could go to hell. It was his fault Dean was back here in the first place.

Growling to himself, he flopped back over the other way, facing the back of the couch, and crossed his arms, trying to find some way to get at least comfortable enough so that he could sleep. But it didn’t work, and he just wound up scowling blackly at the threadbare cushions in his face.

Leave it to Cas to screw him over like this and leave him back here on the fucking couch. Because that’s what Cas did—screw Dean over and ruin everything.

_Stupid fucking angel._

* * *

Dean and Cas hadn’t been out on a hunt together in almost four months. Sure, he and Sam had taken Cas with the two of them once to get him out of the house while Bobby was busy, but that wasn’t the same thing. Obviously. So when Bobby read up on a disappearance in Wyoming and dug around in the archives and found that there were quite a few disappearances over the years by the same quarry where the latest one vanished, Dean had volunteered himself and Cas to go check it out. Sam had gotten roughed up by the werewolf they’d taken out a few weeks before and so he needed stay home anyway—he apparently wanted to let those claw marks heal and put his feet up and give himself a facial and a manicure and watch some _Peyton Place_ while Amy pampered and babied him. Since he was a pussy, and all.

So he and Cas headed out early the next morning and were outside of Cheyenne by that evening, rolling into town just in time for dinner at an Irish pub known for its lamb burgers (which were fucking awesome). They spent the next morning compiling a list of possible victims and looking for people to talk to, and that afternoon saw Cas and Dean dressed in their suits and ties and ready to start asking around about the latest vic. However, Dean wasn’t really looking forward to this case’s investigation due to one big glaring problem: the disappearances were all spread out over a span of almost fifty years, and most of the older ones were cold. Dean guessed it was because the old, shut-down quarry where the victims’ abandoned cars were found was pretty remote; if it was a monster or a spirit, there just wouldn’t be that many victims to pass their way. Oh, and just for shits and giggles, turns out that the blind S-curve by the quarry was already dangerous and known for the number of fatal accidents on it. _And_ the deep edge of the quarry where the cars were usually found was a popular spot with suicides. So, yeah—they had no idea which deaths were just the garden variety or which ones were actual possible victims relating to the job.

Well, at least they did for the first one. James McMannis’s car was found abandoned and empty by the edge of the quarry. No sign of an accident; it had been parked and they keys were not in the ignition. No body had been recovered from the water, but it still might have been labeled another jumper if it hadn’t been for the blood stain in the front seat.

After they’d grabbed a quick lunch at a local deli (with brownies that were so dense that Dean was pretty sure were made with about ten pounds of chocolate apiece), they’d gone to do their usual song and dance with the cops; first thing they’d done was examine the car, which had turned up nothing on Cas’s Ghost Radar. Since that went nowhere, they guessed they could start by talking to his family and friends. Dean dropped Cas off at McMannis’s apartment to talk to his roommate, Daniel Fitzgibbon, while Dean took it upon himself to go see McMannis’s ex-girlfriend Annika Wright.

No, she was his _current_ girlfriend, she’d tearfully insisted when he’d arrived at her house to talk to her. Dean had been mildly disappointed to find her not all that hot, but he did his best to be all Sam-like and understanding and shit. But it was admittedly kinda hard, because through her snotty tears she’d told him that yeah, they’d broken up because he cheated on her, but before he died they’d gotten back together—just like they had every _other_ time he’d cheated on her, because she _loved_ him, baby, and she knew he didn’t mean it, those other women didn’t mean anything to him, she knew he loved her and so she _always_ forgave him and would _always_ take him back.

Yeah—it was pretty pathetic, and honestly, Dean didn’t get much out of her beyond the Jerry Springer version. That, and a good idea that James McMannis was pretty much a dick.

He slumped down into the car and shut the door, rubbing his eyes. Yeah, that hadn’t been uncomfortable and exhausting, or anything. Huge dick or no, though, Annika hadn’t told him anything that pointed to unusual behavior or any other tell-tale signs of supernatural involvement. Right down to the fact that McMannis, being something of a self-proclaimed car-buff, had been very proud of his souped-up Corvette (pussy) and often went out driving outside of town. So him being out by the old quarry wasn’t even anything unusual—possibly just a case of wrong place, wrong time.

Well, hopefully Cas had had more luck with the roommate. After they exchanged info, they could go check out the spot where McMannis had disappeared and see if Cas could do his ghost-whispering thing—that’d be the best way to at least figure out if this was a spirit. _One that targets cheating douchebags_ , he snorted to himself as he shoved the key in the ignition—but then he stopped short of starting the car as something suddenly clicked in his brain.

Hurriedly scooping up the folder on the seat next to him, he started rifling through the stack of articles documenting all deaths, drownings, and disappearances in or by the quarry. Pulling out all the ones that were specifically unexplained disappearances, he found that the overwhelming number of them were dudes. And a quick look at the only two girls had lines in the articles from grieving families talking about depression or major issues in their lives, and both were written off as unrecovered suicides. But not the guys; they were all mysterious and unexplained—and they all left behind wives or girlfriends.

And the latest one was a serial cheater.

Put all that together and it sounded like the classic M.O. of a woman in white.

Rifling through the other articles, he hit paydirt: one from 1975, a supposed accident where a woman named Hannah Richardson had been driving along the edge of the quarry at night and drove off the side—taking her young son with her.

Dean would almost be willing bet dollars to dingleberries that it hadn’t been an accident, that she’d committed suicide and taken her kid with her when she found out her husband had been cheating.

Tossing the folder into the seat, he fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Cas.

He furrowed his brow when Cas answered; it was his usual gruff hello, but he sounded like he was shouting—over the dull roar of background noise coming over the speaker.

“Cas?” he asked.

“Yes, Dean?” he said, like nothing was unusual.

“What’s going on over there?” What, was the old roommate throwing a party to celebrate ditching the asshole he was living with?

“I’m discussing the case with McMannis’s roommate,” Cas answered, literal as always.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, great—listen, I think I might have an idea what we’re dealin’ with. Lemme come over there and pick you up.”

“All right—but I’m not at the apartment.”

“What? Why not—where the hell are you?” Dean demanded.

“Danny said that he had planned to go out this afternoon, so he invited me to continue discussing the case with him at a bar.”

Dean screwed up his face in annoyance. “A _bar_? What the hell, man—he couldn’t just wait to answer a few questions?” he groused.

“He was evasive until I agreed to go with him,” Cas protested. “You and Sam said I should always try to accommodate witnesses to get them to talk—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what I said,” Dean interrupted, annoyed with Cas now rather than Danny or whatever his name was. “Okay, fine—where is this bar?”

“The bar is called the Pink Flamingo; it’s on Alder Street, two blocks off main street,” Cas answered.

“Right—be there in a bit,” Dean said, and hung up. Yeah, he and Sam had lectured Cas on that, that playing nice would usually get witnesses in a better mood to talk. It’d taken Cas years to get that, and not just plow over them and ask nosy questions. No, you gotta be smooth about it if you wanted to get any info—and Cas was the opposite of smooth. So, fine—he’d gone with this guy to a bar. Dean would go find him, they’d have a beer or two, maybe an early dinner if the burgers looked good, and Dean would tell him what he’d found.

It wasn’t far; the bar was on the same side of town as McMannis’s girlfriend’s place, and he pulled into an open spot out front, right under the big neon sign in the shape of a flamingo out front. He killed the engine and paused to admire the round little asses of the two girls walking into the bar together, and then scooped up the mess of papers in the seat next to them, trying to shuffle the mess into a neat(ish) stack that he could cram back into the folder. Movement outside caught his eye, and he looked up only to wrinkle his nose at the sight of a dude wearing skintight jeans, silver boots, a sequined top, and a lot of eyeliner walk towards the bar entrance. Dean had the misfortune to catch his eye and was tossed a stinky wink and an obvious once over; Dean gave him a very uncomfortable smile back and hurriedly went back to his papers. Yeah—no.

Shaking his head, he pulled out the keys and stuck them in his pocket, went to grab the door handle—only to see two more guys headed towards the bar. Two guys… _together._ Like, holding hands and shit, walking close, and one of them leaned over to whisper something in the other guy’s ear and to kiss his neck before they went inside the bar too.

Two guys—

The _Pink_ Flamingo—

— _Invited him to the bar_ —

_SON OF A BITCH!_

Dean yanked his phone out of his pocket, the folder falling down onto the floorboards with a _shush_ , and mashed the call button; every second he listened to the stupid fucking dial tone feeling like boiling water was pouring down his back, and by the time it finally picked up, he was about ready to explode.

“Yes, Dean?”

“ _What the FUCK are you doing—you get OUT of there, you dumb shit!_ ” he roared into the phone.

“Dean—what? What’s going on—?”

Cas’s confusion only make his fury spike even higher. “You’re in a fucking _gay bar_ , you _dumbass_ —get the _fuck_ out here _now_!” he bellowed. And he slammed his thumb on the end button, throwing his phone in the back seat and clenching the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, breathing heavily, keeping his head down so nobody could see him, until he looked up, and there was Cas, dashing out the door, looking confused and panicked and just the sight of him made Dean want to smash his fist in his face— _and he didn’t fucking see him so now Dean had to go get him_ —

No—Dean _fucking_ refused to get out of his car or stand anywhere _near_ Cas in front of the fucking _Pink Flamingo_ , so he just leaned on the horn. Cas jumped at the sudden sound, and then when he caught sight of Dean—Dean didn’t make eye-contact—he hurried over from where he was parked and opened the door.

“Dean—what—”

“ _You shut the fuck up_ ,” he spat through gritted teeth, grabbing his arm and yanking him inside. He didn’t wait for Cas to get fully inside before starting the car, cranking the engine so hard that it squealed in protest and throwing it into gear.

“Dean,” Cas sounded completely pathetic, “I don’t under—”

“I told you to _shut up_ ,” Dean growled, and Cas subsided into pitiful silence as he furiously backed the car out into the street and burned rubber to get the fuck away from there.

* * *

Dean fumed silently at the back of the couch. That had been two days ago. Dean had driven them back to the motel in furious silence and left Cas by himself in the motel room to sulk. A quick trip to the library verified the details of the case, and he went out to the quarry to do an EMF scan (taking care to park his baby far away from the edge; he’d learned from his last date with a woman in white). Sure enough, there was an EMF spike all around the quarry where the abandoned car was found. If that hadn’t been enough to convince him, having Hannah’s ghost show up all dressed in white and try to put the moves on him sure as hell had.

He’d blasted her with rock salt and gotten the hell out of Dodge, and then had gone out to the cemetery to put Hannah down with fire and salt, and that had been that.

After a successful hunt and a quick shower at a truckstop (no fucking way he was going back to the motel), he’d gone out, found himself a nice strip joint on the other side of town, and stayed out all night drinking beer and looking at boobs. He’d slept in the car off the side of the road, and when he’d woken up, stiff and sore and still pissed off, he’d dragged himself back to the motel. Cas hadn’t looked like he’d slept much either—he mostly just looked like he’d spent the night sitting in there all pitiful in the dark, and Dean didn’t doubt that he’d done just that—wouldn’t be the first time. But that was his own problem—and Dean hadn’t given him a chance to speak. He’d just barked at him to get their stuff because they were leaving, and they’d driven home in horrible, oppressive silence while Dean seethed and Cas snuffled.

Stupid fucking angel.

Well, fine—he wanted to run around and do gay shit like hanging around a bunch of drag queens, then fine. But like hell Dean wanted _any_ part of that. Oh, and if he wanted to go “talk about the case” at a fucking gay bar with fucking _Danny_ , well, then that was just fucking fine, too.

 _Fuck_ Cas, anyway.

A tentative knock on the door pulled him out of his black thoughts, but only for a moment, because he caught himself from reflexively telling whoever it was to come in when he realized that there was only one person in the house who would have bothered to knock. Glaring at the couch, he refused to answer.

Didn’t _stop_ that douchebag, though, now, did it? Nope—the tell-tale creak of the door opening sent Dean scrambling to sit up just as Cas came slinking into the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft _snick_. His face was longer than the horse’s sitting at the bar, his eyebrows all tilted and his lip all trembly and his eyes all big. Dean knew he did on purpose, and it was pissing him off even worse.

Dean didn’t say a word. He just glowered at him with his arms crossed, sitting right in the middle of the couch and spread across it as far as he could go, to make it more than clear that he was not welcome on his couch.

Cas hesitated, and if he tried to sit on the couch or so much as said one word about it, Dean would punch him in the face. Just see if he wouldn’t. But he didn’t; instead, he just sank slowly down to sit on the floor. Dean glared at him for a moment longer before looking away, staring hard at the dusty old bookcase across the way and refusing to acknowledge the little shit.

Cas was silent for a few moments, and Dean ignored him for all of them. And he continued to ignore him when Cas finally started talking. “Dean?”

Hmph. He was pathetic, of course.

“Dean, I—I’m _sorry_.”

 _Yes. Yes, you are. You are_ so _goddamn sorry, you little two-timing bastard._

“I swear I didn’t know—Dean, I didn’t _know_ that’s what Danny wanted.”

 _Oh, it’s_ Danny _still, is it?_

“I thought he just wanted to talk about the case, I _swear_. I didn’t…”

And, of course, he still missed the point of everything. Well, he could take his apology and shove it. He wasn’t even apologizing for the right thing.

“Dean?”

_Nope. I’m not looking at you—_

“Dean, I—I _love_ you.”

He couldn’t help it—he’d sworn he’d ignore him, but that made Dean jerk his head around so he could stare incredulously down at Cas. The second he finally made eye-contact with him, Cas started right back up, his voice desperate and trembly as he leaned forward. “I do—I swear, Dean, I love you— _only_ you.”

He—he thought that Dean—

 _Oh, for the love of—goddammit, Cas!_ Dean shifted uncomfortably. Jesus Christ, why did Cas always feel it necessary to blow _everything_ out of proportion?! Seriously?! He was seriously making sweeping declarations of love over—over _that_? He was even down there on his knees, for Christssake!

 _God_ , Cas was stupid. This whole thing was!

And he wasn’t stopping, either. “I love you so much, Dean,” he gushed, the words tumbling over each other. “I can—I can show you—I will—”

Despite the fact that he was looking right at him, Dean jumped when suddenly Cas’s hands flew forward and went right for his zipper.

“What—Cas—” Dean spluttered, jerking under Cas’s hands and trying to resituate. “Cas, we can’t—not back _here_ , somebody might—”

Cas never stopped looking at him and kept one hand on Dean’s jeans, but he leaned over, his free hand reaching for the door. Dean didn’t see it, but he heard the loud _click_ of the lock, and Cas just stared up at him the whole time, wetting his lips a little with the tip of his tongue, his eyes huge and big and pleading.

Fine. Fine—Cas could do whatever he wanted. That’s what he always did anyway, turning up the thermostat and putting his cold feet on Dean in bed and going out with guys to fucking gay bars. Dean wouldn’t stop him—but he sure as hell wasn’t going to indulge him. Dean didn’t stop Cas’s hands, but he did fold his arms across his front again and stare off to the side, setting his jaw and ignoring his squirmy insides. He wouldn’t touch him—and he so wouldn’t watch.

Cas was moving again, his hands pulling at Dean’s jeans. Dean didn’t help him out (much), leaving Cas to tug them down as best he could. He managed anyway, much to Dean’s displeasure; Dean was very proud of himself for not even twitching when Cas’s hand was suddenly on his limp prick—and was proud, for once, that it was limp in the first place, because that meant Cas’s little look and door-locking hadn’t turned him on (that bad). So there. He was still _holy_ shit _, what the fuck, Cas?!_

Dean nearly leapt off the couch when his still-soft dick was suddenly in Cas’s mouth and Cas was _sucking_ , and dear God, he was already _humming_ , too, and Dean couldn’t help _that_ , he looked _then_ , of course! And Cas was looking back up at him, his eyes practically begging Dean to please, pretty please get hard so he could suck him off properly, and Dean was tempted to answer back that he pretty much didn’t have a _choice_ , not with how Cas was fondling his balls like that and moving his tongue all over him!

And he _didn’t_ have a choice—he was hardening right up, little sparks of pleasure making him jerk a little here and there as Cas sucked and licked, and he nearly scowled at how fast Cas got him up.

Fine—Cas could go to town. He was still not— _goddammit, Cas!_

Dean barely swallowed the strangled grunt that tried to escape him when Cas took him deep with no warning and then just—this was outrageous! This was as bad as it used to be, before Cas knew anything about drawing it out! Dean couldn’t help it—he looked again (though kept his hands to himself), and Cas was still looking at him, furiously sucking his cock and making soft little noises around it and swirling his tongue around the head of his prick every time he pulled back far enough to do it.

Cas went deep again, and he held it for a moment, his tongue working Dean’s prick, and then he deliberately moaned and Dean bit his lip, trying not to moan with him. That stupid bastard—what was he trying to _do_? Couldn’t he just fucking slow down so Dean could go back to ignoring him?! Because as it was, he could only just sit there and _watch_ Cas suck him off, and he’d told himself he wasn’t gonna do that. Dammit.

Dean shuddered when Cas just stopped messing around and started sucking him hard and fast, and involuntarily, he spread his legs a little to give Cas more room. Cas eagerly took advantage of that, reaching up with both hands to seize his prick and jerk what his mouth wasn’t reaching at the moment. And then Dean definitely moaned—very grudgingly—when one hand dipped down between his thighs and squeezed his balls in time with the motions of his mouth. _Fuck_ , Cas—it’d been forever since he just _attacked_ him like this, and he wasn’t—wasn’t fucking _used to it_ anymore—

It was a losing battle and part of him knew it, but he still tried to fight the growing heat in his gut and tried to keep his legs _still_ every time Cas swiped hard at the head of his cock with his tongue. In fact, he was so engrossed trying to fight it and doing everything in his power to keep from going off that he didn’t realize he’d reached down and gotten his hands in Cas’s hair until he’d already done it—if anything, just for something to hang onto, because Cas was fucking _relentless_.

His exhale was a half-relieved burst of air when Cas suddenly pulled back, panting and still jerking Dean hard. His eyes were big and pleading, but Dean could hardly pay attention to that, not when his lips were all slick and shiny with spit— “Dean,” he breathed, “please—please let me _show you_.”

_Fuck._

Dean’s groan was strangled ‘cause Cas was right back on his dick, and yeah, he was so gonna let Cas show him—mostly ‘cause he didn’t have any choice in the matter.

The movement of Cas’s head under his hands was driving him insane, and he whimpered quietly when Cas pulled back enough to just work the tip—spreading him out and getting his tongue all up in his dick just how Dean liked it… _shit_ , of course it was how he liked it, because that’s how Cas fucking did _everything_. Dean was panting now, vaguely aware of the little whispers of encouragement that kept slipping out of him, but he didn’t care—and he _really_ didn’t care when something Cas did down there shot a lance of fire right down his spine, causing his hips to jerk reflexively, thrusting a little against Cas’s movements…

Cas pulled away again, but his fist was still working furiously over Dean’s prick, and Dean was about to tell him to put that right back in his mouth when Cas spoke. “Please—will you—Dean,” he said—no, he _begged_ … “Please give it to me.”

The noise that came out of him was pathetic, but Dean paid no attention to it because that did it, he was five seconds from blowing his load—and Cas just kept jerking him, leaning down and licking his cock.

“Cas—” Dean gasped. “You—I—”

Cas leaned forward, eager as ever, his mouth open, but he didn’t put Dean’s cock back in—oh, holy _shit_ he wasn’t—Dean barely managed to keep himself from making too much noise when suddenly it was all over and he came, came how Cas wanted it— _where_ Cas wanted it, and his fingers were tight in Cas’s hair because he was being driven insane because he was coming and he could _see it_ , coming in Cas’s mouth and on his chin _holy fuck Cas wouldn’t stop jerking him_ —

Cas always knew when it was starting to hurt and he stopped, but he didn’t let go of Dean’s prick; no, he held onto that, just sitting there with just the tip touching his lower lip. He left his mouth open long enough for Dean see it as he sat there, dazed and shivering, before swallowing what jizz got in his mouth and just left the rest of it where it had hit—on his chin, and there was some on his cheek there…

Dean couldn’t think of _anyone_ he’d ever been with who’d actually given _themselves_ a moneyshot.

Cas licked his lips, and a shiver of heat went up Dean’s spine at the sight simply because that was hot, and then he grunted as Cas sucked his softening prick, slow and deep, just twice more, cleaning up anything he might have missed before pulling away to look up at him with his big blue eyes. “I do love you, Dean,” Cas said quietly.

Dean’s mood immediately went flat. Dammit, Cas shouldn’t—why the fuck was he talking like that? How could Dean listen to that and look at where he’d spunked on Cas’s face at the same time? He couldn’t, that was what. However, before he could talk, Cas started up again.

“Do—do you want me to do it again?” Cas suddenly asked, and his fingers curled a little tighter where they were still gripping his dick.

“No!” Dean finally managed, struggling to sit up a little, wrestling his prick back into his shorts and pulling his pants up, and he was irritated to see that Cas’s face fell—and that was even more ridiculous, watching him look just crushed because Dean wouldn’t give him _another_ fucking facial. “Cas, just—go back to your room.” He paused, and then looked off and muttered, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

 _Dammit_ , the way Cas looked about like he was going to faint from joy made his moneyshot look even worse. And speaking of—

“Clean yourself off before you go,” Dean added forcefully, because he knew that Cas would just run out there with that shit all over him and fucking _Christ_ , if somebody saw him…

Dean blinked as Cas nodded and then swiped his fingers through the spunk on his chin and cheek before sucking it off, staring lovingly up at him the whole time.

 _Just_ fuck _you, Cas._

He finally stood, gazing down at Dean with a lovey-dovey expression that made Dean feel sick, and then he exited the room, almost forgetting to unlock the door as he left. Dean glared sullenly at him as he went, and then heaved a huge sigh and reached down to fumble his pants closed—but then decided to screw it and just lurched up off of the couch, holding his jeans up with one hand as he shuffled out of the room as well (after a quick check that nobody was there to see him), heading the bathroom first. He needed to clean off—and take a piss.

Cas really was a fucking idiot.

He didn’t necessarily feel comfortable sink-washing his unit right here at Bobby’s—when they did their thing here and he needed to clean up afterward, he usually just went in for a shower. But he didn’t care enough to stop (but was sure to use Cas’s washrag when he did it) and finished up quickly enough. Then he just leaned briefly against the sink, closing his eyes and drawing in a breath through his nose, unable to believe that things had seriously taken a turn for _this_.

But, to be fair, he couldn’t believe that any of _this_ had happened in the first place.

_I think we all know why it did, Dean._

_Shut the fuck up, Sam Voice._

Grumbling under his breath, he turned the light off and left the bathroom, trudging his way to Cas’s room and knowing he’d be in bed, all eager and nude and wearing the biggest cow eyes he could muster because he was a bastard.

He didn’t look at Cas when he entered the room, though he did make sure to close the door quietly behind him. He continued to ignore him as he grumpily pulled off his pants and his shirt, kicking the pile next to Cas’s dresser and out of the way, and then he stumped over to the bed and turned off the bedside lamp before he got into bed, jerking the covers up as he slid under them. Only then did he finally _look_ at Cas, and he was irritated to see that he was wearing _clothes_ —what the hell was Cas doing wearing _clothes_? He never wore clothes in bed when Dean was home!

Dean huffed and grabbed him, angling him and making it clear how he wanted things to be arranged—Cas got it and rolled onto his side so Dean could scoot forward, his chest pressing up against Cas’s back. Mentally muttering obscenities, he slid his hand around Cas’s waist, searching for the hem of his shirt so he could pull it up and find the elastic of his shorts so he could get in there and get this over with.

Cas jumped a little when he suddenly realized the score, and while he didn’t grab Dean’s wrist, he did gasp, “Dean—you don’t have—”

“Be quiet,” Dean muttered, bunching his shirt up a little and pushing Cas’s shorts down off of his dick before getting his fingers around it and squeezing. “Just be quiet, and…” He didn’t finish, instead pressing his face against the back of Cas’s neck and working to get him up.

Didn’t take long, of course—Cas was like some kind of radio antenna when it came to Dean. Once he was hard, Dean grabbed his cock just right and started jerking, not bothering with anything fancy. Didn’t matter—Cas let out a rapturous sigh anyway, already rocking his hips to the motions of Dean’s hand, his fingers knotted in the sheets. His pace wasn’t frantic, even though he was in a hurry to get the idiot off, but he definitely wasn’t being slow about things—just the usual steady pace that he tended to go with when they were having a quickie in the mornings. Didn’t really matter, though—Cas was moaning quietly and acting like Dean was unleashing the beast like he did on their occasional “vacation” hunt. Well, at least that guaranteed that this wouldn’t take long.

Dean paused only to spit in his palm so he wouldn’t chafe Cas, and then he irritatedly leaned down to kiss and nibble behind Cas’s ear because he knew that was one of Cas’s sweet spots and it’d make him hurry up. Cas whimpered, shuddering violently, and Dean heard him whisper his name. Dean ignored that and just went faster, and a minute or two later, it was over—Cas was crying out softly, burying his face in his pillow to keep it quiet, and Dean was catching his load for him so he wouldn’t get that shit all over the sheets. He didn’t move for a little bit, just listening to Cas’s hoarse breath, but he wasn’t just gonna keep sitting here with a handful of spunk.

Rolling away, he groped around for the tissue box until he got a handful and grumbled mentally the whole time he wiped off. He _wanted_ to get up and wash his hands, but if he left, Cas would probably start bawling and whining and Dean didn’t want to deal with that. So he just did his best here before tossing the tissue into the trashcan and, grudgingly, scooted back next to Cas. He didn’t move when Cas wriggled backwards, making it so he was spooned up against Dean anyway, and he rolled his eyes but still went with it when Cas tentatively grabbed his hand from where it’d come to rest on Cas’s hip and pulled it up so that it was resting against his ribs.

Jesus.

“Cas,” Dean muttered against the back of his neck. “I…I’m not mad, okay?”

“You were,” Cas replied, just a whisper.

“ _No_ , it—” _Goddammit._ “Okay, fine. I _was_ mad. But—it—I was mad about…something kind of, you know…” He swallowed, forcing himself to say it. “Something _stupid_.”

“No,” Cas insisted, shaking his head and tightening his fingers around Dean’s. “You thought…I made you believe I was attempting to solicit a sexual encounter from—”

“I did not!” Dean hissed fiercely. “Fucking hell, that’s not why I—” Dean huffed and scooted closer, pulling Cas against him properly now. “Cas, I _know_ that you—uh…weren’t trying to…step out or something.”

“I wouldn’t,” Cas quickly said. “I love—”

“I _know_ that, Cas, I know you do,” Dean interrupted. “I just…”

_Man up and say it, Winchester._

_Fuck you._

He swallowed again, flexing his fingers against Cas’s chest. “Look, just forget it, okay? Let’s…let’s pretend this didn’t happen. I’m not mad, and I’m—” _Fucking say it._ “I’m _sorry_. This…wasn’t your fault. You didn’t fucking do anything.”

“But I did,” Cas insisted. “I went on a date—”

“No you _didn’t_ , you idiot,” Dean snarled quietly. “You didn’t do anything wrong—I’m—I was being a _dick_ , okay?!”

“You were not,” Cas retorted, sounding vaguely offended that Dean would suggest such a thing, and that just made everything even shittier.

“ _Yes_ , I _was_ ,” Dean growled. “I was a fucking dick and I’m trying to say sorry for it, so would you stop being a damn martyr and _let_ me?”

There was a pause, and then Cas awkwardly whispered, “All right.”

Goddammit, he still didn’t get it. And Dean could tell—he was still pathetic.

“Cas,” Dean sighed, knowing that there was only one option left after all of this. “I…know you…love me.” He grumbled to himself before finishing with a bit of a cough. “…Love you, too.”

And just like that, he felt Cas squeeze his hand tightly, pulling his arm around him more securely and burrowing into the blankets more even as he pressed against Dean.

_Stupid fucking angel._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Dean was being a monumental asshat—but that was largely in part due to his internalized homophobia coming to call. We know we put it mostly to rest in “Coming Back to Life,” but he’ll never fully be rid of it, and, well, Cas going into a gay bar was just too close to being “outed” for him to handle. But, on the flip side, he was blaming his entire reaction on said internalized homophobia so he could avoid the plain and simple fact that he was in fact also feeling a bit jealous.
> 
> Oh, and by the way—Danny ran out after Cas to find out what was wrong. Dean didn’t see him, but Danny so saw them.
> 
> Busted anyway, Dean, and, as usual, it is entirely your own fault.


	3. Domestic Disturbance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As usual, Bobby heard more than Dean realizes, and of course is the one who sorted them out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Dean may have sacked up and apologized on his own, but you don’t think that Bobby still didn’t have a hand behind the scenes patching them up, did you?
> 
> Mrs. Hyde

_The day of “You Give Love a Bad Name”…_

Bobby had seen a lot of crap from Dean and Cas in his time. He’d seen Dean run off and hide from everybody like that would somehow magically make it so no one knew he’d been screwin’ around with Cas. He’d seen Cas all mopey and hangdog because Dean was hiding from him after he’d done something that made Dean get his panties in a knot. But those things hadn’t happened in a while, and really, they only happened when they’d been foolin’ around at his place. When the two of them went out on a hunt on their own, it was different. He guessed ‘cause they were off by themselves and Dean felt like he didn’t have to worry about anybody he knew spotting him—didn’t have to worry about hidin’ it. Or maybe it was just that he went out and got laid—whatever it was, Dean was pretty much always in a good mood after goin’ on a hunt with Cas. And Cas—well, the less said about him, the better. One look at that floaty, transported expression of his, and the way he followed Dean around with his eyes—it was enough to make you heave.

But this time…this time was something different. Sam had played the fainting flower and acted like he wanted to stay home so Dean could suggest taking Cas out with him on the latest job without looking gay or whatever. Dean fell for it, as usual, and the two morons were out on the road first thing in the morning. They hadn’t had one of their little getaways in a while, so Sam and Bobby weren’t expecting them back any time soon, and when they did, they knew they’d both be pretty insufferable.

Except late this evening, only four days after they’d left, he and Sam had both looked up in surprise at the familiar sound of a rumbling engine pulling up in the back. “Huh. That was quick,” said Sam, looking up from his laptop with a puzzled expression.

Bobby didn’t have a chance to agree; anything he wanted to say was cut off by the back door flying open with a bang, and in stormed Dean.

Bobby just looked at him, his eyebrows crawling upwards. Dean practically had Ziggy’s thunderstorm brewing over him, the way he was hunched down, his shoulders taught, and his face twisted in an angry grimace. He was only carrying his backpack, which he threw in the floor at Sam’s feet.

“Is…is everything okay?” Sam asked slowly.

“It’s fine,” Dean snapped. “I took care of it.”

Just about then Cas appeared in the door, bent under the weight of all their other bags, and if he wasn't just the sorriest, most hang-dog sight Bobby had ever seen. Dean looked back at the sound of Cas coming in, gave him an incredibly ugly look, and then spun on his heel and stomped right up the back stairs with his nose in the air, leaving Cas to slump in dejection and watch his retreating back with an expression of misery.

Well. This was new.

The sound of a door slamming upstairs seemed to be all Cas could take; he just sort of dropped all the bags where he stood, not saying a word or even bothering to get the laundry, and just dragged himself upstairs, his head hanging.

“…What the hell was that?” Sam asked after a moment of silence.

Bobby rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m guessing that the two little ladies had themselves a spat,” he said tiredly, and then shook his head and tried to go back to his book.

After less than a minute of suffering Sam’s concerned looks at the stairs and his own loud-mouthed conscience, he just slammed it shut again. “ _Balls_ ,” he grunted, and heaved himself to his feet. “I’m gonna go sort those two numbskulls out— _again_ ,” he told Sam, and he turned and marched up the stairs.

Dammit, it’d been almost two years since he’d had to go fix whatever mess those two had made of things. Not that he actually thought he was finished playin’ Dr. Phil, but he could at least be pissed that he’d broken his winning streak.

He made it to the top of the stairs; oh, great, both the back room door and Cas’s door were both tightly shut. Looked like Dean was so mad that he went to go sleep on the couch, wasn’t that fantastic. Sighing heavily, he turned to thump on Cas’s door; no way he was gonna get anything out of Dean, so he just started with the Weakest Link. “Hey, boy, you in there?” he called.

It was silent, but then he heard just a barely audible “Yes,” and nothing else. Rolling his eyes, he just charged right inside—only to immediately have to squint and look off when he was treated to the sight of Cas’s bare backside. There was a trail of clothes strewn on the floor, going from the door to the bed like something out of a cartoon, where Cas had apparently just shed them as he went, and now he was lying there in bed, his back to Bobby, huddled in a naked ball of misery.

“Cover up, Cas,” he grunted, turning away and closing the door to give him time, and he turned back around just in time to see Cas pull the sheet clear up over his head so he could hide under it.

 _Oh, for God’s sake._ Bobby rubbed the bridge of his nose and wished he’d had the forethought to take a shot of Dr. Jack Daniel’s Patented Nerve Medicine before coming up here. Oh, well, too late for that now. “What happened, Cas?” he asked tiredly.

“I don’t _know_ ,” came a piteous moan from under the sheet.

“You never know,” Bobby said flatly. “Just tell me what happened— _exactly_ what happened. And quit hidin’ under that damn sheet,” he added as an afterthought. If he was gonna have to come up here and provide unpaid relationship counseling, Cas could damn well do him the courtesy of looking him in the eye while he was talking to him.

Cas fought his way out from under the sheet and sat up; he wrapped his skinny arms around his middle as he slumped unhappily where he sat. “I—we were just researching the case, Bobby,” he snuffled. “Everything was fine when we split up to question the witnesses, but then afterwards Dean was so _angry_ with me!”

Bobby just waited impatiently for Cas to get to the point; he always had to preface things with a bunch of rambling nonsense that Bobby didn’t care about (or, in some cases, stuff that he actively didn’t want to hear). “Dean always tells me to try and go along with what the witness wants so they’ll be more likely to tell me things, so when Danny asked me to go to the bar with him, I said I would,” Cas said pitifully. “I don’t know why that would make Dean so _mad_ at me. He didn’t seem angry when I first told him—just when he arrived at the bar. He’s never been unkind to homosexuals before; why would he be angry that Danny prefers bars that cater to that demographic?”

Bobby, who had been idly tugging at his own eyebrow while Cas fussed, went perfectly still. “Say _what_ now?” he said after a brief moment wherein he tried to process what Cas had just said. “You—it was a _gay bar_ that you were in?”

Cas nodded. “Yes—it was Danny’s regular establishment.” He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “I was just doing what Dean always says to do,” he whined. “Danny was being uncooperative when I tried to ask him about his former roommate. He kept changing the subject and asking irrelevant personal questions, so when he asked me to accompany him that evening, I agreed so I could get the information that Dean wanted.”

Bobby’s jaw was flapping open by the end of this recitation, and as he looked at Cas sitting there, all clueless and mournful and naked, Bobby could only conclude that it was a testament to his skills as an actor that he didn’t just bust out laughing in his face.

“Yeah, well,” he finally managed, coughing to cover the laughter that was trying to escape. “Cas, I know most of the time when you two have problems it’s just Dean bein’ a bitch—”

“Dean is _not_ a bitch,” Cas said, offended.

Dammit, he really wasn’t helping Bobby tryin’ not to laugh. He coughed again to cover it, and said, “Fine—you’re right this time. This time it was all on you—that was one dumbfuck thing to do, boy.”

Cas’s face crumpled. “I knew it!” he cried, and threw himself back on the bed and buried himself under the sheet again. “I did something terrible and it’s my fault Dean is angry—but I don’t know what I _did_!”

“You went on a date.”

“And I _ruined_ it!” Cas wailed. “I was so looking forward to my time with Dean but I only made him angry and we didn’t get to have sex and now he’s not speaking to me!”

Bobby pursed his lips against his traitorous smile. “No, Cas—I mean you went on a date with _someone other than Dean_.”

The lump of sheets went very still, and then the edge peeled down, and there was Cas, looking up at him with a completely bewildered expression. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you did. That’s why he’s mad,” Bobby informed him.

“But I didn’t,” he protested, sitting up and shaking his head vigorously. “It was Dean and me on the hunt, not anyone else, and we—”

“Cas,” Bobby interrupted, “I don’t mean the hunt—I mean Danny.”

Cas was still completely lost, that much was obvious, so Bobby went on.

“Askin’ you personal questions, wantin’ you to go out with him—takin’ you to a gay bar?” He couldn’t help but roll his eyes and shake his head at the clueless angel sitting there in the bed with his mouth hanging open. “He wasn’t bein’ ‘uncooperative,’ you idjit—he was _flirtin’_ with you, and then he asked you out and you said yes. That’s why Dean’s pissed—‘cause you went out on a date with another guy.”

While Bobby had been speaking, Cas’s confusion was slowly replaced with shocked understanding, only to give way to stark horror. “I—I went out with another man?” he whispered. “Dean—Dean thinks I was planning a sexual encounter with someone else?”

Bobby snorted. “No, boy, I think he knows—”

Cas didn’t give him a chance to finish. “Bobby!” he shrieked, throwing off the sheet and leaping out of the bed. “I have to talk to Dean—Bobby, what have I _done_ , Dean thinks I was _unfaithful_ , I have to—”

Bobby seized him by the arm before he could charge naked out the door. “Cool it, boy!” he said, using his own momentum against him to swing him around and dump his naked butt right back on the bed. “First thing you gotta do is put some damn clothes on before you leave the room—you know the rules,” he said firmly as Cas looked like he was about to protest. “Next, you need to just calm down. Dean doesn’t think you were _unfaithful_ , you bonehead—he’s…he’s just jealous, is all.”

Cas gripped the sides of his head with his hands (incidentally not covering up, either, so Bobby resigned himself to havin’ this discussion while gettin’ an eyeful of The Little Angel down there). “No, Bobby,” he said hoarsely, looking at the floor and shaking his head. “There is _no one else_ but Dean—how could I have—I would _never_ —”

“And Dean _knows_ that,” Bobby interrupted gently. “Yeah, you may have screwed up, but Dean is still overreacting here. He knows you wouldn’t cheat on him, and he knows it was all a mistake—he’s just bein’ all pissy, ‘cause you may not think so, but Dean really can be a bitch.”

Cas looked up, his eyes so pitiful that he’d make a basset hound look cheerful, and Bobby couldn’t help the snort that got out of him this time. “Don’t take it so hard, boy,” he said, lightly ruffling his hair. “Like I said—this was all a mistake, and Dean knows it. He’s just havin’ himself a tantrum, and it’ll burn itself out like usual and everything’ll be fine.” His smile twisted a bit sourly. “Maybe you can—you know—go…do something to show him that…that he’s your one and only, and all.” God, what was his life that he’d just told Cas to go have make-up sex with Dean. “He knows you wouldn’t cheat, but since he’s feelin’ a little jealous anyway, maybe—maybe havin’ you…show him that you love him would make him feel better.”

Bobby rolled his eyes skyward at the end of that ridiculous speech, but Cas was nodding vigorously. “Yes—yes I will,” said decisively. “I will go and—”

Bobby cut him off. “You don’t need to tell me what you’re gonna do,” he said firmly. “Just do what you do and don’t tell me about it. But you ain’t leavin’ this room without your clothes on,” he said when it looked like Cas was about to go haring off into Dean’s room again. “You walk in there naked and you’ll just piss him off worse. Matter of fact, you do it ‘fore Sam and me turn in for the night, he’ll just keep havin’ his fit. Stick to your usual schedule of foolin’ around with Dean only after lights out.”

Cas nodded and immediately got up to start scooping up his clothes, waving his naked ass in Bobby’s face, and he sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. Well, looked like he was done here. And he definitely didn’t want to hang around if Cas was gearin’ up to go prostrate himself in front of Dean and beg forgiveness—God knew how that would end up. Shaking his head, he went out the door and closed it behind him, spared a snort in the direction of Dean’s closed door, and then clumped back down the stairs.

Sam was still sitting in the same place that Bobby had left him. It honestly hadn’t taken too long to find out what had happened and talk Cas down; he’d had some real doozies before, when they were seriously on the outs about something, not just a funny mix-up like this one. Feeling himself start to grin, Bobby pulled up a chair and sat down and poured himself a finger of whiskey. “Sam, you gotta hear this one.”

Sam’s inquisitive look quickly turned into that pinched face he got whenever Bobby nailed him with some TMI for the sake of sharing his misery. “ _No_ ,” he said. “Absolutely not, I don’t want to know—”

“Relax, boy—it ain’t like that.” He chuckled into his glass as he took a drink. “This one is friggin’ hilarious.” He set his glass down with a small _thunk_. “Seems that Cas missed the fact that the witness he was questioning was into him and so he accidentally went out on a date.”

Sam blinked at him. “A—a _date_?” he repeated in disbelief.

“Yep,” Bobby answered, really enjoying this one. “He thought he was just being accommodating, goin’ out for a drink with the witness in question—didn’t realize it was a booty call.” He snorted. “Still didn’t, till I told him just now.” He looked back up at Sam, who still looked incredulous, but amusement was just starting to creep in. “So, yeah—that’s why Dean’s pissy. He and Cas split up on the job, and next thing he knows Cas is havin’ drinks all cozy-like with _Danny_ down at the local gay bar.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. Bobby just took another drink, grinning back at him the whole time. “You—you’re telling me,” Sam finally said, his voice deliberately even, “that Cas got picked up—by another guy—and now Dean is having a _jealous fit_?”

“Bingo,” said Bobby with satisfaction.

“Oh my God,” Sam said, starting to laugh now. “Bobby—you were right—that is _hilarious_. Oh my _God_ , Dean, he—he flirts with anything female that moves, and then Cas gets hit on and doesn’t even know it, and Dean—” Words failed Sam and he just laughed, leaning against the wall with his eyes squinted in merriment.

Bobby chuckled along with him. “And here I thought I’d seen everything outta those two—leave it to Dean to prove me wrong,” he said amusedly.

* * *

The next morning Bobby came down from his room to find Dean and Cas already up. Dean was slumped at the kitchen table, drinking a beer and looking cranky and sullen, but he wasn’t in high dudgeon anymore, and wasn’t giving Cas the silent treatment. Oh, he wasn’t talking, but Cas was right there in the kitchen and he wasn’t leaving; nope, in fact, he was letting himself be waited on, as Cas was making bacon and eggs and pancakes for breakfast (though Bobby noted he seemed to squirm uncomfortably under Cas’s adoring looks). And Cas…well, suffice to say that he’d recovered his usual post-hunt-with-Dean euphoria, flitting about the kitchen and giving Dean syrupy looks while he made him breakfast.

So, as usual, Bobby had been right—a little make-up sex and everything was right as rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incidentally, Cas wasn’t really wailing and beating his breast like Bobby described him—he’s still his usual stoic self, but they’ve all been living with him for so long that to them, his little tiny changes in tone and expression can seem like he’s chewing the scenery. That’s half the reason we wanted to write our various outside POVs, just to see that people who aren’t nearly so close to him still see him as the stiff, overly-serious angel he always is.
> 
> Now, this fic chronologically takes place between the two parts of "No One Like You." So it may seem a little open-ended, not quite wrapping up Dean's bad behavior, but the truth is that this fic is setting the stage for the second half of "No One Like You," wherein Dean finally starts to overcome the various issues presented here and in part one of that fic.


End file.
